Forget Me Not (36 page)

“We’re almost there, Will. You can make it.”

As we practically carry him through the community, I glance over my shoulder every few steps at the buildings and into the fading darkness. I’m nervous someone might see us, but finally we reach the small gap in the fence without seeing a single soul. Not even the cat. Bright yellow sunbeams shoot up from the horizon into the soft grey light of dawn.

The sight of the fence floods me with relief, then stills my legs.

“How are we going to get him through?”
I say into Jax’s mind alone.
“He can barely walk, let alone crawl through there.”

“You go first. We’re going to have to wriggle him through.”

My stomach churns at the thought. Poor Will. This is going to hurt, but we have no choice. It’s the only way out. We lower him to the ground on his back.

I wriggle through the gap, and pain shoots up my thigh where the wound from yesterday split open again. The smell of moist dirt fills my nose as I turn around and lay on my stomach facing the hole.

One of Will’s hands appears first. Strong and large, I wrap my tiny hand around it. Pulling doesn’t budge him. So I reach through with my head half in the fence’s hole and grab him under the arms.

“Ready?”
Jax says.

“Yes.”

“One, two, three.”

Throwing every bit of strength into the pull, I heave. He issues an agonizing groan which brings tears to my eyes. He slides forward. I rise up onto my knees, shuffle backward, and pull when Jax counts again. Will slides forward a little more. Now his arms, head, and shoulders are through. His other arm cradles his middle. We pull again, and something clicks, loud and terrifying, like we’ve broken a bone. He lets out a huge, pain-filled cry.

I wince, biting down on my lip, and tears trickle down my face.
“I’m so sorry, Will. One more and you’re through.”

He doesn’t respond. His body feels limp under my hands.

“I think he’s passed out,” I say.

“Probably easier for him.”

I rise onto my haunches and give one final heave at the same time Jax shoves. Will’s through—passed out, but through. I push his blond hair out of his closed eyes. I’m so sorry.

Jax scrambles through the fence, eyes him, then turns to me. “Can you ride a bike?”

“I know how.” Controlling the motorcycle with this leg might be tricky.

He dips his hand into Will’s pocket and retrieves the keys, jangling them at me. “Help get him on behind me. He’s not going to be able to hold on.”

Heaving a big sigh, I nod. Will’s going to be okay. We’ll get him home okay. He has to be okay.

Jax unbuckles his belt. My gaze flies to his hands as he works to pull it free. Heat rises in my cheeks, and I can’t look away. It comes free of his pants in one long yank. He bends down and unbuckles Will’s belt too. Oh my God.

“What the heck are you doing?” I ask Jax.

Will’s eyes flutter open, but they’re rolled back in his head, showing only bloodshot whiteness. Jax buckles the two belts together and hands them to me with the smirk I love. Smiling, I raise a questioning brow.

“Strap us together when he’s on.”

I nod, then crouch down beside Will. “Will.” I pat his shoulder. “I know you’re in pain, but you have to help us get you on the bike. We need you to stand.”

He groans, and the hand cradled against his chest moves to clutch his side. I sigh, my throat aching again. “I’m so sorry.” I slide my hands under his back, and Jax grabs his free arm. We exchange a quick glance. Jax nods, then I push and he pulls, raising Will off the ground. Once he’s on his feet, swaying, trembling, blindly moving forward, we guide him to the bike. Jax climbs on. I push Will from behind, and he heaves himself up, his free arm closing around Jax.

He’s on.

I take the long belt and wrap it around them both, ducking under Jax’s arm to secure it at his front. When it’s done, I take a step back and meet Jax’s sure smile. Will leans against him, eyes closed, and a pained expression marring his face.

I climb on Will’s sleek road bike and follow Jax home.

The short, sharp rap
of knuckles on the door startles me awake.

“Come in,” Will’s croaky voice answers.

I lift my head from its resting place on the side of his bed, stretch my arms out in front of me, and arch my back like a cat. Stiff from sleeping slumped over in the chair where I’ve spent the past twenty four hours. He never woke up on the trip home. Once we put him in bed, Lilly’s mom and healing mentor, Martha, kicked me out. For what felt like hours, I paced the hall listening to his screams. When she emerged, I darted back inside, but unconsciousness had claimed him again. So I sat. And waited.

Now he’s awake. A grin spreads across my face, and I grab his hand, squeezing. “Will.” He grimaces, and I loosen my eager grip.

“Hey.” He returns my smile.

“Ahem.” Lilly stands in the door. Sun shining through the small window highlights particles of dust dancing in the bright rays, making her look like a fairytale princess. Her black hair shines in the sun. A wooden tray balances on her hip with one arm, the other in a sling tied behind her neck. “A hand, please?” She moves toward me and swings around so the tray is right in front of my face.

The smell of onions, eggs, and sausage hit me, turning my mouth to liquid. I fold a leg down on either side of the tray and lift it from her hand, placing it over Will’s lap. “How’s the shoulder?” I ask her.

“Still a bit sore from where Mom popped it back in. I hope your dad appreciates it.”

An empty shell. Manvyke’s words haunt me. I sigh, worried it’s the truth. I need to drag myself away from Will’s side and see him. Knowing he’s safe, but being uncertain at Will’s state, I haven’t made that venture yet. Maybe I’m scared.

Lilly moves around to the far side of the bed. “When Jax told me to port with him, I really didn’t think I’d be able to get away from that woman.”

“Her name was Bia,” I say. An image of the woman, sprawled on the floor, twisted like a broken contortionist, darkens my mind. “I didn’t hear Jax tell you to port.”

She taps her head with her finger. “How’s the patient?” she asks, plonking herself on the end of his bed.

“Hurts to breathe.” He grits his teeth against her jostling.

“Martha says he needs to give the ankle a few days to knit, and then she needs to cast it. Afterward he can get up and move around
—so long as he doesn’t put weight on it.” I repeat Martha’s instructions. Will blanches, but colors up again.

Three broken ribs, a fractured ankle, and a shattered kneecap
—all damage I inflicted on him when I activated the Tarlequin. In saving Jax I hurt Will. I wish I could go back and prevent it, but I couldn’t really change it. Or maybe I could, somehow. I’m not sure. Not saving Jax would never be an option.

“So what now? Are you both going home?” Lilly asks.

Will looks to me, and I shake my head, saying, “Him, yes. Me, no.”

“What?” Will says.

“As soon as you’re better, Beau can run you into the city.” I pause and glance at him. “I can’t go home yet. Dad—”

He looks away, and Lilly glances down too. A moment passes, then Will chuckles. “You’re safe. I’ll go home, but I’m not staying away. I’ve got to come back for our punishment.”

Lilly raises her head and smiles. “It’s hardly punishment. I think he’s secretly proud, but just wants to make out like he has some authority.”

“All of us?” I ask.

“Yep.” She smiles.

“Scanner duty every night. A month each.”

Will laughs, then clutches his side. “Oww. The punishment hardly fits the crime.”

“I know, right?” she says, her smile widening into a grin.

“Fun. Scanner duty sounds awesome. I’m definitely hanging around for that.”  He pops a forkful of scrambled eggs into his mouth. “How’s Al?”

“Getting better,” Lilly says. “He and Bertie are bickering like siblings, so I guess it means things are getting back to normal.”

My stomach tightens. “I feel so bad for what happened to them. I used the cover-up in their home that day to get Al’s attention.” I twist my fingers through the knitted blanket.

“It’s not your fault.” Will’s hand finds mine and closes over it. “We didn’t know what would happen.” His expression is sincere as his eyes beg me to go easy on myself.

“I know, but when they got home, agents were waiting.”

Lilly turns to meet my gaze. “They tortured Al and Bertie because of tech, but not because of the one piece they didn’t have. If they didn’t have so much, their memories would’ve just been altered and the tech confiscated, but there was heaps. The Collective aren’t stupid. Obviously Al and Bertie are resistance. Torture, well, it’s what happens.” Her expression darkens. “Al said they questioned him for days.”

“What about Jax?” I ask, picking a loose thread on the blanket.

Her eyes turn to ice, her voice cold and hard. “Dad says he can stay. He’s not a threat.” She glances out the window.

Will and I exchange a troubled look. He changes the mood by using his good foot to nudge her off the bed. She grabs the linen to stop herself from toppling off, and we both giggle.

The happiness in his face while he’s laughing is as contagious as ever, making the three of us instantly happy. When our laughter dies down his face straightens to a happy expression that’s filled with sadness at the same time. I hold his gaze with a slight frown for a few moments. We haven’t had enough fun times lately. I miss the old Will. I miss our time together. I miss being carefree.

Lilly shuffles her weight, and I turn my gaze to her. “Guess we should leave you to rest,” she says.

She’s right. Now he’s awake, I feel free to leave, free to see Dad. I get up and move to the door, pausing before I step out. “I’ll come by later.”

“That would be nice.”

I pull the door closed.

* * * *

Sucking down a deep breath to try to relieve the pain in my chest, I walk toward the vegetable garden. Dad’s bent over a patch of spring onions, his broad shoulders hunched as he digs them from the ground with a small trowel. Beau squats beside him, his eyes reflecting the sunlight as he stares at the ground, pulling weeds from the rich, brown dirt.

“Hi,” I say.

Beau looks up, inclines his head, and smiles. Dad spins around, and his grey eyes crinkle at the corners as they meet mine. “Annie.” He jumps up and pulls me into a hug that nearly makes us both fall over.

I swallow against the lump in my throat. “Dad, it’s Mae.”

He drops his hands like I’m a hot rock and pulls back, clearly confused.

Beau shoots me a sad smile. I pull away and wonder how Manvkye knew her. The feeling deep inside me tells me she’s not Collective.

“Tell me about Annie,” I say, uncertain where this will lead.

“Annie. Poor, sweet Annie. They wouldn’t allow us to be together, so she left everything behind, her family and her life and her world.” He turns over clumps of dirt. Maybe she was Collective once, but I’m not sure. Just like we’re not sure what happened to her.

He looks up at me, his eyes sparkling. “Did you know we have a daughter?” He pulls out a spring onion and waves it in front of my face.

The lump in my throat explodes in a burst of sharp pain, and everything goes blurry. Of course he has a daughter. He shouldn’t be telling me this. He should be holding me tight, telling me I’m the daughter he loves. The one he’ll never let go.

“I’m harvesting the onions. Want to help?” His voice is too cheery.

“Sure,” I choke out. For a while I dig at the soft soil while warm salty tears roll down my cheeks.

Beau lays a hand on my shoulder. “We think the memory loss will eventually wear off.”

“How soon?”

“I don’t know. We haven’t come across anything like this before.” He looks to the chickens pecking at the dirt under a tree laden with apples.

An empty shell. It’s not far from the truth. It’s like dementia. Like he’s only half there. There’s pain in the back of my throat, like it’s been rubbed raw.

We work side by side in silence, the smell of dirt and onion keeping me grounded. But that doesn’t keep the tears or pain at bay. I wish Jax stood beside me now, lending me strength with his presence. But I’m not sure he’s even still here or where he’d go if he left. Or worse, if Beau forced him away.

“Lilly said you’ve finished questioning Jax.” I look at the onion I dug from the earth, playing it cool in case it’s not okay to ask.

Beau cuts straight to the point. “From what I can gather, he holds a great deal of resentment toward his father. He tells me he didn’t inform on us willingly, and we found traces of sodium pentothal in his blood.”

“Sodium pentothal?”

“It’s a truth serum. They used it to force him to answer their questions.” Beau’s black and grey-peppered hair moves as he shakes his head.